Work Text:
The sound of the television filled the room, its glow lighting up much of the space. Lying on the floor, she stared at it with quiet fascination, unable to look away—like a moth drawn to an endless light.
It almost made her ignore the argument happening outside—the constant back-and-forth, the promises that in the end sounded like nothing more than empty words meant to avoid a harsher punishment.
The whole discussion was about her—how she failed even the simplest tasks, how her functioning was impaired, her movements clumsy and unsteady, her speech basic and flawed. Everything about her was wrong… all of her.
What do you do with something so defective? Something so broken and pathetic that the first thought it brings is why it’s still allowed to exist. After all, she was just disposable—something that could be replaced overnight without anyone caring.
No… not even that. She wasn’t a product. She was trash. Something discarded and forgotten, meant to be destroyed without a second thought. She could still feel it—the broken pieces of her body that would never be fixed, the burnt and miswired circuits, the shattered systems that controlled her movement and speech.
She remembered that place. A dumping ground filled with broken bodies, torn apart and abandoned, nothing more than a storage space for defects. It felt like she had been destined to fade into nothingness… until *she* arrived.
That girl was different. She didn’t see tools to be used and thrown away when they lost their value… she saw friends. She looked at them as if they could feel, think, and exist just like any human.
That girl gave her clothes and a place to stay, promising her a better life outside that landfill—a life where she wouldn’t be forgotten, but cared for.
Too bad that “home” turned out to be just another kind of cage. Of course, she had to earn her place. She had to prove she deserved to stay in the eyes of the girl’s awful parents.
But she failed. Again and again. Every attempt to help in that mansion ended the same way—pathetic failure. And every failure cost the girl something.
She could see it happening—the girl growing tired of her. The smile she gave her becoming forced. The discomfort at her presence. The subtle annoyance in her voice. The frown every time she messed up. Their bond felt like a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any moment.
It was only a matter of time. The girl had started noticing how strange she was—her behavior, her expressions. Was she starting to regret bringing her here? It felt that way every time she was punished because of her. She didn’t want that… but no matter how hard she tried, she kept ruining everything.
It wasn’t just her. The others weren’t much different. She saw it clearly—J openly calling her strange and unnecessary, V avoiding her with weak excuses instead of admitting she made her uncomfortable… and then there was the other one.
And yet, despite all the rejection, all the looks that treated her like a defective object, all the patience wearing thin… there was still one person.
One person who could turn that fragile, tense house into something else entirely. Someone who made her forget her flaws, who reminded her she had value. Someone who played with her, taught her gently, stayed by her side. He didn’t ignore what she was—he accepted it. From the very beginning, he never stopped smiling at her.
“Friend” didn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe what he was to her.
And somehow… the answer came from the television. Funny, in a way—that something as worn-out as her could give her clarity.
On the screen, there was a happy family. A wise father. A loving mother. A clumsy, naive younger brother who always needed guidance. And the older brother—kind, cheerful, always there to support him, to protect him… and never, ever abandon him.
That was it.
That was the word.
He wasn’t just a friend.
He was her brother.
It felt so obvious now. He had always been there, never growing tired of her, never pushing her away. But more than that—he was the best brother in the world.
She didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He wouldn’t leave her. He would protect her, no matter how much she failed. That’s what older brothers do, right? They fix things for their little siblings.
The door creaked open. Footsteps approached. She didn’t even turn—she already knew who it was.
He sat beside her and looked at her.
“Hey, kiddo. What are you doing?”
“Watching.”
“Oh yeah? What are you watching?”
“Watching puppet family. Smiley face.”
“Oh, nice.”
“What happened? Question mark.”
“Well… let’s just say I managed to get you a lighter punishment. You’ll only have to clean the floors for two weeks. But don’t worry—I’ll help you. Oh, and… I got your dolls back.”
Yeah.
He really was her brother.
“Big brother.”
“Huh?”
“You’re my big brother, N.”
“Uh… Cyn, I’m not your—”
“Big brother N! Big brother N! Big brother N! Happy, happy, happy!”
He fell silent.
He knew he should correct her. Tell her the truth. Tell her they weren’t really siblings.
But then he saw her smile.
That same genuine smile that always got to him.
And suddenly… telling her the truth felt wrong. Cruel, even. Almost unforgivable.
What harm could it really do?
She wouldn’t hurt anyone… right?
“Kiddo… why do you think I’m your brother?”
“Because you help me and protect me. That’s what brothers do. Smiley face. They don’t abandon or betray each other. Big brother N… big brothers always stay with the little ones, no matter what.”
He paused. Then gave a small smile.
“Alright, little sister. Time for bed.”
“But I have to watch the puppets… sad face.”
“Hey, you can watch it tomorrow. Besides, J says that show is rotting your chip.”
“That’s a lie! Angry face! Exclamation mark!”
He laughed softly and walked her to her room. It was the farthest one in the house—technically just an old storage room they had given her, but it worked. J and V shared rooms, and he… well, he had his own. Compared to hers, it was a luxury.
He tucked her into bed, wrapping her in blankets as comfortably as he could. He read her favorite story (*The Happy Dog*, limited edition), and before leaving, he looked at her one last time.
“Good night, Cyn.”
“Good night, big brother N.”
He closed the door behind him.
There was nothing to worry about. Everything would be fine. He just had to teach her a little more, that’s all. The problems would go away. Everyone would see that she could be just as good as anyone else.
Nothing bad would happen.
…Right?